A Prized Acquisition
by Aini NuFire
Summary: #9 Dragon riders AU - A foreign Duke asks for Constance's hand in a political marriage, threatening the blossoming romance between her and d'Artagnan. And what happens if the man won't take no for an answer…
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Thank you guest Lexi for reviewing the last episode!**

**And shoutout to 29Pieces who's always beta reading something for me. ^_^**

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Chapter 1

"What a majestic creature," King Louis commented as Gieffrin Vaugrenard, visiting Duke from Flanders, presented a pure white horse to His Majesty.

D'Artagnan was envious; the mare was indeed a beauty, with sleek musculature and a shiny coat.

"A horse befitting a queen," Cardinal Richelieu put in.

"Indeed," Louis said, turning to Anne.

She smiled demurely at the gift.

"Would Your Majesty like to ride her?" the Duke prompted.

Anne dipped her head politely, and a servant rushed forward to place a saddle on the animal.

"Your Majesty is the one with the magnificent specimens," Vaugrenard addressed Louis, roving his gaze over the musketeers and their dragons standing guard over the procession and meeting. He walked over to a line of the soldiers, pausing between Porthos and Aramis to admire Rhaego behind them.

D'Artagnan wondered if either of them was going to warn the Duke not to try to touch the russet dragon, but thankfully Vaugrenard turned away and back toward the King.

"As you know, I've made a name for myself breeding horses, but I've always found dragons fascinating and am interested in expanding my trade. I would love to see your facility."

Louis beamed like a preening peacock. "A tour, then!"

"Perhaps another time," Richelieu interjected. "I'm sure the Duke would like to settle in after his journey."

"Not at all," Vaugrenard contradicted. "A tour would be splendid."

Louis grinned wider.

Captain Treville nodded to Athos, who then gestured for Aramis, Porthos, and d'Artagnan to accompany the King and Duke while the other half of the guards remained with Treville and the Queen. The Cardinal made a huffy comment about having affairs of state to see to and begged off. All the better, really; it was no secret the Cardinal was jealous of the Musketeers and their dragons, and he always found something disparaging to say about them.

The royal dragon den was adjacent to the palace and thus not a far walk. There were less dragons housed there than there were at the Musketeer garrison, but the den was the official residence and training ground for those not paired with musketeers.

"Bonacieux!" Louis called as they arrived, drawing the royal dragon keeper's attention from the cart of beef he was taking delivery of.

"Your Majesty," Jean said, coming to meet them.

"This is Gieffrin Vaugrenard of Flanders," Louis said, indicating the Duke. "He is interested in the keeping of dragons."

Jean bowed his head to the man. "Your Grace. What would you like to know?"

"Everything," the Duke replied eagerly. "I see a cart of meat there; how much is required to keep a den of dragons fed? I understand breeding is a challenging endeavor; how do you capture dragons in the wild? And what training methods do you employ to tame them?"

The King let out a grating laugh. "Such questions could take all day to answer!"

D'Artagnan caught Aramis and Porthos sharing an eye roll. The King was proud of his dragons, just not interested in the minutiae behind what actually went in to keeping them.

"It is indeed a lifelong practice passed down through my family," Jean answered quickly. "Allow me to show you the grounds and provisions. And perhaps a demonstration with a dragon?"

Vaugrenard clapped his hands together. "Excellent."

The Musketeer guards hung back as Bonacieux led the way to one of the storehouses to begin the tour. The Duke looked fascinated while Louis quickly started looking bored.

"The tour was his suggestion," Porthos muttered.

Aramis smirked. "Until he was no longer the center of attention."

D'Artagnan shared an amused grin with them even as he roved his gaze around the compound in search of something else. He spotted Constance coming out of one of the other outbuildings with a bucket and shovel, preparing to muck out the dens and clean up some places around the yard. He caught her eye and smiled. She smiled back.

"Constance!" Jean called. "Would you bring Dragor out?"

She cast a curious gaze around the visiting party while setting the shovel and bucket against the side of the building and heading for the dragon pens. D'Artagnan had to fight the urge to jog after her and help, but he was technically supposed to be on guard duty and couldn't abandon his post. Not that Constance needed his help; she was more than capable of handling any dragon in the Bonacieuxs' care.

She brought the large pewter dragon out into the yard, not needing a lead rope or halter for the King's personal dragon. Dragor was one of the older ones, as old as Captain Treville's, Constance had told d'Artagnan, and had belonged to Louis's father. Dragor lived the retired life now that the current King didn't ride himself.

D'Artagnan knew better than to break formation, but he couldn't stop from constantly casting small smiles Constance's way whenever she looked at him. The automatic smiles he elicited in return made him grin all the more.

"Stop that," Athos said under his breath.

D'Artagnan jolted.

"Come now, Athos," Aramis replied glibly. "The lad can't help it if he's besotted."

"I am not," he protested automatically. "I'm just…being friendly."

"Right," Porthos smirked.

"If your attention is diverted, how can you expect to react in time to a threat against the King?" Athos pressed. "And if a threat were to present itself, would your first action be to protect the King, or Mademoiselle Bonacieux?" he asked pointedly.

D'Artagnan bit back the response that the three of them were perfectly capable of protecting the King—that wasn't the point. And if he thought about it, he couldn't say what he would do. If an attack suddenly happened…yes, he could see himself running for Constance first. Which was not what a musketeer's duty demanded of him.

He ducked his head abashedly. "You're right."

"Don't worry," Aramis said. "No one's going to attack here. You won't have to choose between your heart and your duty."

Athos rolled his eyes.

D'Artagnan gave a weak smile in return. Aramis was probably right, but he couldn't dismiss the validity of the lesson—nor would he forget it.

Jean led the Duke and King back around after finishing a circuit of the compound. "This is one of our oldest dragons," Bonacieux informed Vaugrenard as they reached Constance. "Trained by my father's father."

"I can understand why this trade is generational," the Duke commented. "Dragons often live longer than man, do they not?"

"Eighty to one hundred years," Jean confirmed. "Dragor here is sixty-four."

"And not at all feeble," Vaugrenard remarked, looking the beast over.

"Not at all," Louis piped in. "He is the epitome of the species, befitting the King who rides him."

D'Artagnan caught Constance rolling her eyes, but thankfully her face was hidden behind Dragor's shoulder so the men didn't notice. She rode the dragon more often than anyone so the old creature would not become infirm from inactivity.

Dragor, for his part, was a staid fixture, showing no reaction to the words of men spoken as though he wasn't there. Given d'Artagnan had inadvertently offended the first dragon he'd met by saying they weren't all that different from horses, he thought this dragon possessed a lot of restraint. But perhaps such sage patience came from old age.

"You promised a demonstration," Vaugrenard reminded Jean.

"Of course. Constance, would you bring Zhar out?"

Constance patted Dragor's flank, and the old dragon turned to head back to his pen on his own while she went to another pen to retrieve one of the dragons still in training.

"The young lady knows her way around dragons as well," the Duke said.

"Constance has spent her whole life around them," Jean replied. "She knows as much as I do."

"She is your daughter?"

"Yes."

Their conversation was interrupted by Constance's return with Zhar. D'Artagnan tensed slightly, wondering if the dragon would behave in front of an audience. But Constance and Jean proceeded to walk the dragon through a training exercise with small chunks of salted meat to reward his good behavior.

"Marvelous!" the Duke exclaimed when they finished. "I am quite impressed."

Louis beamed as though the praise was due to him and not the actual dragon keepers.

Jean and Constance bowed respectfully as the royal party finally took their leave and the musketeers fell into step to escort them back to the palace. D'Artagnan cast a look over his shoulder, despite Athos's earlier chiding, hoping to catch Constance's eye one more time.

"Careful, pup," Porthos chuckled. "Yer gonna get a crick in yer neck."

D'Artagnan whipped back around and searched for Athos, but he was up at the front of the procession. "Sorry," he muttered.

Porthos sighed. "Look, I'm happy for ya. But Athos has a point; you can't let it get in the way of yer duty."

"I know," d'Artagnan said sullenly. "I'll do better."

"Your Majesty," Vaugrenard spoke up ahead of them. "The dragon keeper's daughter, she is not married?"

"No, I don't believe so," Louis replied.

"My first wife died several years ago and I have yet to remarry. Mademoiselle Bonacieux has many great qualities, not the least of which is her knowledge of dragons. I believe a union could benefit both our nations—for helping me establish a dragon den, France could have its pick of my finest horses."

D'Artagnan nearly tripped over his own feet, the breath stealing from his lungs. _What?_

Louis perked up. "That is a marvelous idea. A breeding program could be mutually beneficial as well."

D'Artagnan choked.

"I shall speak to Bonacieux about it," the King went on.

D'Artagnan trailed after them, mind reeling. Just five minutes ago he'd been walking on air and now his world was crashing down around him. The King of France was going to arrange a marriage for Constance? With a Duke from Flanders? How was d'Artagnan to compete with that?

They returned the group safely to the palace grounds. The Queen was no longer out riding and so the King and Duke retired inside, thereby dismissing the Musketeer guard.

D'Artagnan sulked as he followed the others back toward the garrison.

Aramis clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Come on, I think a trip to the tavern is in order."

D'Artagnan furrowed his brow. "Isn't it still early?"

"Not for Athos."

That earned the marksman a dry look, but the lieutenant didn't contradict him. Aramis steered d'Artagnan down another street, gesturing for the dragons to head home on their own, and the four of them made their way toward their favored establishment. Porthos found them a table while Aramis and Athos ordered a bottle of wine to share.

"Cheer up, d'Artagnan," Aramis said, pouring him a full cup. "The Duke isn't going to sweep Constance off her feet."

"He doesn't have to," d'Artagnan replied morosely. "If it's the _King's_ wish she marry him—"

Porthos snorted. "Have you met our dear Constance? No one makes her do anythin' she doesn't want to."

That was true, and she certainly didn't have a problem expressing opinions against the King in private. But outwardly defying him…that was another matter. Not to mention the Duke was offering her the opportunity to start her own dragon den.

"Besides," Aramis added, "we all know how she feels about you."

Did she though? And was it enough?

"It's a good match," d'Artagnan said glumly. "She'd be a duchess. I can't provide a life like that for her. I don't even have a commission yet."

And after his performance at the compound, did Athos even believe him worthy of one?

Aramis and Porthos gave him sympathetic looks.

"Nothing's been arranged," Athos pointed out as though trying for sympathy but sounding a touch more impatient instead.

D'Artagnan just nodded and stared into his drink as all his hopes and dreams seemed to be crumbling around him.

.o.0.o.

Constance bustled around the kitchen preparing supper for when her father returned from the palace. He'd been summoned not long after the King and Duke's visit and had been gone for the past couple of hours. Perhaps the Duke had more questions about dragon rearing. Constance hoped they wouldn't monopolize her father for too long; he needed to eat.

She glanced out the window in search of him…or their lodger. Sometimes d'Artagnan came home for dinner and other times he went out with his friends. He wasn't required to check in, but it'd be nice if Constance knew whether to expect him or not.

She caught sight of her father entering the compound and heading toward the house, so she put a serving of food on a plate and set it on the table at his spot. A few moments later the door opened and he came inside. His expression was…troubled.

"Is everything alright?" Constance immediately asked. "What did the King want?"

He blinked at her. "Oh. He…wanted to tell me about a proposition from the Duke."

"Not for you to go work for him," she said with a smile. "The King would never let you go."

Her father shuffled over to the table and sank into a chair. "Not me. You."

Constance faltered. "What?"

"The Duke has asked for your hand in marriage."

Her eyes blew wide, mouth moving soundlessly for a moment. "He _what_? That's ridiculous."

"He wants to start his own dragon keeping and believes you would be an essential part of that." His mouth twisted ruefully. "I suppose the marriage part is just a formality."

Constance crossed her arms. "Well, he'll have to find someone else because the answer is no."

Jean grimaced. "The King expressed strong wishes for this to happen. He sees it as a political union for France and the duchy in Flanders."

Constance stared at her father in disbelief. "Are you considering this?" she asked in a hushed voice.

He sighed. "I haven't done right by you since your mother died. I should have looked for a good match for you, so you would be taken care of when I'm gone."

"You're not going anywhere anytime soon."

He gave her a wan smile at that before his expression sobered again. "This is a good arrangement," he said, though his tone was tinged with reluctance. "You would be well-established with a good name, and your skills would be valued. I would miss you, of course, but I can't be selfish."

"Am I allowed to? Because I do not want this. Paris is my home and I don't even know this man." Constance crossed the kitchen to kneel at her father's side. "I know you only want what is best for me, but please, Father, not this."

His eyes swam with equally distraught emotion. "Think on it tonight," he said. "And if you are sure in the morning, then I will respectfully decline the Duke's offer."

Constance sagged in relief and nodded. She would give it the night but knew she would not change her mind. Her life was here—her family, both immediate and by association. She could not bear the thought of leaving them.

She thought of d'Artagnan next, her heart clenching at the idea of never seeing him again either.

No, the Duke's proposition was flattering but not for her.

She already had the life she wanted.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you guest Laureleaf for your earlier review! And to my other guest who reviewed an earlier episode.**

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Chapter 2

Despite Constance's adamance in refusing the Duke's offer, she still lay awake that night over it. The Duke was a powerful person, not to mention the King was the _King_. He couldn't force her to marry, but she couldn't help but wonder if it would cause trouble for her father. Louis's moods could be…mercurial.

And so even though none of it changed her mind, her sleep was still fretful.

She didn't hear d'Artagnan come home and was surprised to find him out by the dragon pens the next morning when she went out to do her chores. He already had a basket of dead rabbits in hand to feed the dragons.

"You're getting an early start," she commented.

He jolted as though he hadn't heard her approach. "Oh, yeah."

Constance frowned at him and moved to open the next pen. She stood back and let him toss two rabbits in, then closed the gate.

"What do you think of the Duke?" he abruptly asked.

Constance stilled with her hand on the gate latch. "I don't know anything about him," she replied carefully.

D'Artagnan seemed to be making a point of avoiding her eye, focusing instead on poking at the dead rabbits. "He's wealthy, for one."

Constance narrowed her eyes. "You heard about his marriage proposition."

He finally looked at her. "So he did make it."

"He and the King spoke with my father, yes."

D'Artagnan slid his gaze away again and scuffed his boot in the dirt. "Jean must be thrilled."

"Not particularly."

"Vaugrenard has a lot to offer."

Constance huffed. "I'm not interested in being bought like one of his prized horses."

D'Artagnan's head snapped up at that. "So…you're not going to marry him?"

"You can't honestly think I'd care about his wealth and status," she said in dismay.

He shrugged one shoulder. "Any woman would be lucky to marry into that."

"Then it shouldn't be hard for him to find someone." She paused, considering him. "Unless you think I should."

"No!" he blurted. "Like you said, you don't know anything about him. And- and he's twice your age!"

"Are those the only reasons I shouldn't accept his offer?"

D'Artagnan's jaw worked for a long moment, his expression tightening. "I don't want you to," he finally said.

Constance stared back at him for several beats, waiting for him to say more.

But he didn't, and her heart fell in disappointment.

She took the basket from him. "You should get to the garrison," she said stiffly. "Wouldn't want you to be late."

D'Artagnan opened his mouth, but then closed it. With a clipped nod, he turned and walked away.

Constance sighed and turned her attention to Dragor in his pen who had been watching their exchange silently. "Sometimes matters of the heart are so simple and yet so complicated," she lamented softly.

And that was it, wasn't it? She wanted to marry for love.

Whether she would get to, however, was another matter.

The dragon blinked slowly in understanding.

"But I could never leave you all," she went on. "And someone has to look after my father." She opened the pen and tossed a couple of rabbits in.

Dragor stood and stretched, then extended his neck toward her. Constance patted his snout. He served at the pleasure of the King, and so did she.

She just hoped it didn't require this level of sacrifice.

.o.0.o.

Jean Bonacieux had had a restless night. Despite his daughter's aversion to the Duke's proposition, Jean couldn't help but wonder what was best for her. There were merits to marrying a Duke. It was Jean's responsibility to make sure Constance was provided for in the future. But he would miss her dearly. He spent hours wondering what his wife would have said were she still living and finally concluded that she would have supported Constance's decision. So that was what Jean was going to do.

So the following morning he went to the palace to seek an audience with the King and Vaugrenard. He was escorted to one of the libraries where the royals were gathered with the Duke as custodians presented them with books on dragons to peruse. The Cardinal was also in attendance, making Jean wish he had come later.

"Ah, Bonacieux," Louis greeted. "Have you an answer?"

Jean shifted his weight and mustered his nerve. "Yes, Your Majesty. I have discussed the Duke's most gracious offer with my daughter, but I am afraid we must humbly decline."

The King stared at him blankly for a long moment. "Excuse me?"

Vaugrenard's brow pinched. "You will not find a more suitable match among the common folk of France."

"It is not that, Your Grace. I depend on my daughter quite a bit and she is invaluable to the royal dragon den."

"You have been royal dragon keeper for decades," the Cardinal put in. "And have done so sufficiently without the help of a handmaiden. An alliance with Flanders would be good for France."

"Surely an alliance is not contingent upon a marriage union," Jean said hesitantly. "I could recommend some dragon breeders Your Grace might be interested in employing."

"I intend to build my own trade, not back one that is already established," Vaugrenard retorted haughtily. He turned to Louis. "I must say, I find this disparaging attitude toward my good will an affront."

The King gazed at Jean in disappointment. "As do I."

"I'm sure Monsieur Bonacieux is merely letting sentimentality get in the way of wisdom," Richelieu interjected swiftly. "His daughter is the only family he has in Paris. The prospect of losing her to Flanders must be a cause of distress, despite the obvious benefits for all parties."

Jean bristled. "Constance does not wish to marry at this time."

The Cardinal scoffed. "The young lady cannot be expected to make such decisions."

"And yet it is Constance's and Monsieur Bonacieux's decision," the Queen spoke up. She strode forward from the side of the room where she had been lingering. "I believe they mean no disrespect and I'm sure it was not a decision made lightly."

She glanced at Jean and he subtly inclined his head in confirmation.

Anne looked back at the other men. "Our nations have much to unite over and such bonds need not be finalized with marriage vows. I'm sure we can find other ways to support each other. Perhaps Monsieur Bonacieux would be willing to take on an apprentice for the Duke, or one of his peers would be willing to travel to Flanders and impart his knowledge."

There were disgruntled looks among the sovereigns but no verbal complaints.

"I need time to think on this," Louis finally said.

Jean bowed and made his retreat. He supposed he really shouldn't have expected that to go well, though it could have gone worse.

"Bonacieux."

He turned in the hall as the Queen followed him out.

"Your Majesty," he said and bowed hastily.

She smiled warmly at him. "Tell Constance to take heart. The King will do the right thing."

"Thank you, Your Majesty. I am truly grateful for your support back there."

Her smile turned slightly rueful. "We all have a part to play in this world, but not everyone is born to be a pawn. This should be Constance's choice."

Jean gave her a sad look of understanding and bowed his head again. Sometimes he forgot there were fathers who gave their daughters away as playing pieces on a world wide chess board. He couldn't imagine it.

And hoped he'd never have to.

.o.0.o.

The next few days were tense as Constance waited to hear whether the King would accept her refusal of the Duke's proposition or attempt to order her father to arrange the marriage. D'Artagnan seemed to be avoiding her in that time, which she found hurtful. Why couldn't he just tell her how he felt? Or maybe he didn't have deep feelings for her. Maybe his attentions had just been idle flirtations. The idea made her feel slightly foolish because _her_ feelings weren't trivial, but she shook it off. It didn't matter. What mattered now was finding a way to keep the life she loved from being torn apart.

A bustle at the gate to the compound drew her attention and she straightened as a group of musketeers escorted Queen Anne onto the grounds.

"Your Majesty," she said with a curtsy.

The door of one of the storehouses creaked as Jean emerged.

Anne smiled at them both. "I bring word that the King laments your decision not to marry Vaugrenard, but he will respect it."

Constance nearly sagged in relief, and she exchanged a giddy smile with her father.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Jean gushed.

"I did nothing," she insisted. "It was the King's decision."

"By your guidance."

Anne smiled softly.

"I don't know how I can ever thank you," Constance said.

"Your service has always been all that is required," Anne replied. "And France is fortunate to keep you."

Constance curtsied again as the Queen took her leave.

Jean draped an arm around Constance's shoulders and laid a kiss upon her head. "I should get the meat delivery to the garrison."

"I'll go with you," Constance said. There were some other people she'd like to share the good news with.

The cart was already loaded and hitched to the mule, so Jean took the beast by its bridle and began to lead it toward the back gate. The garrison was right next to the den so it was a short journey. While her father set to stocking the meat in the garrison's storehouse, Constance sought out her friends and was happy to find all four of them at their usual table under the captain's office.

"Constance," Aramis greeted brightly. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"The Queen just came to tell us that the King isn't going to force the marriage," she informed them.

Aramis and Porthos shared elated grins.

"Well that's a relief," the larger musketeer said. "Woulda been impossible to replace ya."

"There would have been an uproar among the dragons," Aramis added.

Constance shook her head at them in amusement.

Athos rose from the table and gave her a stoic nod. "I'm happy it worked out for you."

Constance smiled, knowing he meant it even if it didn't show very well. She turned her gaze toward d'Artagnan and found him looking relieved himself. Part of her hoped he'd say something now, but before any of them could, Treville appeared on the balcony above.

"The Duke is preparing to leave and our presence is required," he announced.

Aramis sighed and picked up his hat to place upon his head. "Duty calls."

Constance nodded in understanding, shooting d'Artagnan one last look. He hesitated as he moved past her and she held her breath, but he merely dipped his head and hurried away. Her heart fell. She followed them out the gate and watched as they reached the palace before turning and heading back to the den to resume her chores.

Despite the relief of the Queen's news, Constance's emotions were a confusing mess. She went to the tack room to retrieve a saddle; riding was always a good way to clear her head, or at least escape the turmoil for a brief time.

On her way toward the dragon pens, she stopped as she noticed the back gate ajar. Frowning, she set the saddle down and went to look. Her father wasn't back from the garrison yet and she was sure she'd closed it when they'd left. She started to push it open wider to look outside when an arm snaked around her waist from behind and a hand clamped over her mouth before she could scream. She was bodily lifted off her feet and carried through the gate. A covered wagon was sitting outside with three men waiting.

Constance kicked at her captor and he slammed her feet back on the ground. One of the other men grabbed her arms and deftly bound her wrists with rope. The hand over her mouth released her and she took a breath to scream, but a rag was shoved between her teeth before she could and the ends knotted behind her head, muffling her shouts.

She thrashed against these ruffians in a desperate bid to break free, but she was surrounded. A hood was then thrown over her head, disorienting her. Hands seized her arms and legs again and she yelped into the gag as she was raised up and dumped into the back of the wagon. Constance rolled back and forth, but she couldn't see and a large weight sat down at her feet.

"Be quiet," someone warned menacingly.

The wagon lurched as it began to move. Constance whimpered, her heart fluttering like a terrified rabbit's. She wanted to ask what they wanted but of course couldn't speak. The rag was tied tightly and the fabric bit into her cheeks.

She didn't know how long they traveled. It wasn't a short distance, she didn't think, but it felt like an eternity before they finally came to a stop. The hood was yanked off her head and she blinked rapidly against the influx of bright light. The man in the back of the wagon with her hauled her upright and out. She stumbled on the uneven ground, whipping her gaze around in an effort to orient herself. She was shocked and terrified to see they'd left the city. Her captor roughly turned her around, and her eyes blew wide even further as the Duke from Flanders stepped forward. He nodded to the thug, who pulled the gag out of Constance's mouth.

"I would apologize for the rough treatment, mademoiselle," Vaugrenard said. "But sometimes a firm hand is required in the taming of a filly."

Constance's face flushed hot with fury. "What is the meaning of this?" she demanded.

The Duke stepped closer, his eyes flinty. "I am unaccustomed to being refused. And I always succeed in my ventures. I intend to establish a prestigious dragon den and you are going to help me do so."

Constance gaped at him. "I most certainly will not!"

The slap came abruptly and stunned her, her head snapping to the side and cheek stinging fiercely. She slowly turned her gaze back to him, eyes watering from the burn.

"I enjoy spitfires in my horses on occasion," he said in a low voice. "But know this, they all are broken eventually."

He turned and walked back to his caravan as Constance was grabbed and shoved into the back of the wagon again, her guard behind her. Through the flap of the canvas cover, she saw the rooftops of Paris receding into the distance as they continued on their way.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

After seeing the Duke on his way, the musketeers had returned to the garrison where Athos had declared some practice sparring time for d'Artagnan. Unfortunately, d'Artagnan's heart and head wasn't in it.

"You're distracted," Athos said disapprovingly after disarming him for the third time in less than three minutes.

D'Artagnan flinched and mentally chastised himself. Athos's disappointment on top of everything else was more than he could handle right now. "Sorry," he muttered.

"Why so glum?" Aramis spoke up from where he and Porthos were giving their dragons' scales a brushing down. "Constance isn't marrying the Duke and the man has left. Everything is back to normal and you are free to woo her."

"But I still have nothing to offer her," d'Artagnan said despairingly. "What if another suitor comes along? Someone Constance _would_ be interested in marrying."

"Doubtful," Aramis replied.

D'Artagnan shook his head in frustration. His friends didn't understand. They had their commissions and the honor of the Musketeer name. D'Artagnan was a farm boy far from home mostly living off the generosity of others.

"Unless you intend to marry Constance this instant, you still have time to earn your commission," Athos said apathetically.

D'Artagnan gritted his teeth and raised his sword again. They went for another round and he held his own a tad longer but Athos still beat him with barely a challenge. The defeat only dampened d'Artagnan's mood further. He was never going to prove himself at this rate.

"Ah, monsieur Bonacieux," Aramis called out, pausing the duel. "Did you forget something earlier?"

Jean walked across the yard toward them, his posture tense and expression pinched. "Have any of you seen Constance?"

"Not since this morning," Aramis replied.

D'Artagnan stiffened. "Why? Has the King changed his mind?"

Jean shook his head. "No, nothing like that. I just haven't seen her all afternoon and the dragons in the den are riled up though I can't figure out why."

The guys exchanged looks with each other.

"Did she take one of them out?" d'Artagnan asked. "She likes to do that sometimes."

"There was a saddle out by the pens, but no, all the dragons are in." Jean's brows knitted together. "Normally I wouldn't worry, but something's got them worked up."

"Perhaps we can help," Aramis offered, nudging Rhaego. "You enjoy a good game of hide and seek."

D'Artagnan sheathed his sword, eager to find Constance and make sure she was okay.

Aramis nodded to Porthos and Athos, who wordlessly decided to remain behind, and followed Jean back to the compound, Rhaego and d'Artagnan in tow.

D'Artagnan could hear the dragons the moment they walked through the gate—snarls and the gnashing of teeth disrupting the normal tranquility of the den. He'd never seen them so upset, and his worry for Constance spiked further.

Jean cast a concerned look their way before turning toward the house. "I'll get something with Constance's scent."

Aramis was frowning at the dragon pens as well.

"You ever seen them like this?" d'Artagnan asked.

"No."

Rhaego had cocked his head toward the pens, eyes narrowing. Then he abruptly straightened, muscles going rigid.

"Rhaego?" Aramis queried.

The russet dragon whipped his head toward the house as Jean re-emerged, and instead of needing Aramis's prompting to get Constance's scent, Rhaego scampered forward and immediately started sniffing the shawl urgently.

"Something's happened," Aramis said quietly. "D'Artagnan, get Athos and Porthos and saddle the dragons."

Jean shot a fearful look their way at Aramis's words.

D'Artagnan, too, felt his heart skip a beat. He turned and started to hurry back to the garrison. Behind him, he heard Aramis promise Jean that they would find Constance. D'Artagnan clenched his fists and quickened his pace. They would find her.

They had to.

.o.0.o.

Constance sat huddled in the back corner of the wagon, knees drawn up to her chest and bound wrists draped over them. The wagon jostled and bumped beneath her as it traveled over the uneven road, taking her further and further away from home. She had cried silently for a short bit in the beginning, despair squeezing her heart like a vise. But then she had rallied, chastising herself for giving up so soon. Perhaps there was little chance of a rescue—no one would know she'd been kidnapped, or by whom. There was no reason for anyone to suspect the Duke of such guile behavior. But she was not some helpless damsel. Yes, she was outnumbered and the situation was dire, but she need only look for an opening, a chance to escape.

She winced as one of the wheels jounced over a rut in the road. Sitting cramped in the back of the wagon was giving her a host of aches to go with the dull throbbing in her cheek. Constance shifted to try to alleviate some of the discomfort. She wondered how far the caravan would get from the city before dark. By then her father would know for certain she was missing and people would begin to look for her. But how much time would they spend focusing their search in the city? Which was large enough they could search there for days while she was carried farther and farther away.

No, she needed to get away soon.

When it was finally evening, the wagon slowed to a stop and Constance's guard hopped out of the back. There was movement outside and noises, perhaps camp being set. Constance inched toward the edge of the wagon and cautiously tried to peek out.

The flap was flung back and she jerked away. Vaugrenard roved a sharp gaze over her before holding out his hand to help her down. She swallowed a bitter taste in her mouth and accepted the assistance.

The men were setting camp, as she'd thought, off the main road and nowhere near a village or inn that she could see. She supposed it wouldn't look good to rent a room with a kidnapped woman in tow.

The Duke manhandled her over to where a camp fire had already been started and shoved her toward the ground. She stumbled to keep herself upright and turned to glower at him. He smirked.

"Behave or you won't eat."

Constance drew her chin up, attempting some measure of dignity. The sun was skimming the treetops, which meant her window for escape would be rapidly closing soon. "I need to…" She gestured to the trees awkwardly.

Vaugrenard considered her for a prolonged beat, then waved over one of his men. "Remember what I said," he warned.

Constance ducked her gaze in feigned submission and turned to make her way under the cover of the trees, her jailor right behind.

"That's far enough," the man said when they were still within sight of the camp.

Constance held her bound wrists out toward him.

He huffed. "I'm sure you can manage your skirts just fine."

Her cheeks flushed hot and she half turned away, shooting a glare over her shoulder. "Some privacy, please?"

He narrowed his eyes but turned his back to her.

Constance bit her lip and looked around. She wouldn't get far if she tried to run. But this was her best chance and she knew she wouldn't get another if she failed on the first.

Her heart pounded wildly against her rib cage as she slowly bent to pick up a tree branch. Glancing back at the guard, she found he still wasn't looking. She'd have to be quick.

Hefting the branch up behind her shoulder, she crept closer and swung with all her might, clobbering him in the side of the head. He went down with an "oof" and a grunt and Constance hit him again, desperate to knock him out before he could shout an alarm. She dropped to her knees beside him and pulled his sword from its scabbard. Bracing the hilt between her knees, she stretched her arms out and swiftly slid the point between her wrists, yanking up in an effort to cut through the ropes. It took three attempts to free herself. Meanwhile she kept throwing harried looks at the camp as men bustled about. So far they hadn't noticed anything amiss. Snatching up the sword, Constance turned and made a run for it.

She barely covered a few yards before a shout rose up from the camp. Terror zinged through her and she could have sobbed as she tried to run faster, hampered by twigs and branches snatching at her skirts. She needed to reach the road—though that would leave her more exposed and she couldn't count on running into anyone there who could help her. But she also couldn't afford to get lost and turned around.

Crashing branches echoed behind her and she chanced a look over her shoulder. The Duke was gaining fast. Constance darted between the trees before her heart felt like it was going to burst out of her chest and her lungs would collapse. Stumbling to a stop, she gripped the stolen sword in both hands and raised it as Vaugrenard finally caught up.

He drew to a halt, arching a brow at her mildly. Then he laughed. "Put that down before you hurt yourself."

"Stay back!" she warned.

With a sigh, he unsheathed his own rapier. "I see that spirit is going to take some work to break."

Her pulse jumped in her throat as he took a step toward her, and she tried to focus on recalling d'Artagnan's lessons. _Keep your feet apart. Find your balance_.

She adjusted her stance. She knew she should wield the blade with one hand but it felt heavy in her grip and she was too terrified to relinquish her two-handed grip. But she remembered the moves, and when Vaugrenard advanced, she reacted by knocking his blade away. He swung again and she parried, stumbling slightly under the force of the blow yet keeping her feet.

Bolstered, Constance surged forward, striking his blade twice and driving him back a step. His brows rose sharply.

"Aren't you full of hidden talents."

A challenge sparked in his eyes and he attacked with more fervor. Constance ducked and scrambled backward, but then struck out at an opening. The Duke barely blocked in time and tried to reach out to grab Constance's wrists. She wrenched away and took another swipe at him, forcing him to reel back to avoid getting cut. Constance swung again, the clang of steel roaring in her ears along with the rushing of blood. This wasn't mild-mannered practicing with d'Artagnan; this was fight or die.

Constance pressed the attack, chanting to herself the tips d'Artagnan had taught her. Thrust, block, riposte. She drove Vaugrenard back until his heel caught on a rock and he tripped, falling backwards to land on the ground. Constance stomped on his hand until his fingers spasmed open and then she kicked his blade away, ending with her own poised at his throat. He stared up at her in shock and dismay.

"I would never entrust a single dragon to your ilk," she seethed. "Now you will let me return home. Or I will slit you from naval—" she lowered the tip of her sword to his groin and back up again, "—to nose."

Vaugrenard's cheeks were puffing red with rage, and Constance pressed the blade more firmly into his jugular.

Clomping footsteps sounded to their left and the Duke grinned. Constance tensed, but it wasn't Vaugrenard's men come to rescue him. In fact, she gaped in astonishment at blue cloaks and the sight of Aramis, Athos, and d'Artagnan plowing through the trees toward them. The three men drew to a stop, swords in hand as they took in the scene. Aramis's mouth quirked in apparent amusement.

"What are you doing here?" Constance blurted.

"Um…" D'Artagnan furrowed his brow. "We're here to rescue you."

Athos moved forward, eyes flicking to the Duke. "Apparently you didn't need it."

"I will have your heads for this act of war!" Vaugrenard raged.

"I'm sure the Queen would love to hear you explain how you kidnapped her favored dragon keeper," Athos replied calmly. "What would the rest of Flanders think of such an act of aggression?"

The Duke glowered at him.

Athos put a hand gently on Constance's arm and she started, finally shifting her blade away from Vaugrenard's throat. Athos took her place standing threateningly over the Duke.

"Leave France without further incident and I'm sure the King and Queen can be persuaded to overlook this lapse in trust," he said.

Vaugrenard scrambled to his feet, shoulders heaving with outrage.

"We'll send some dragons to escort you on your way," Aramis put in. "They all have a certain…fondness, for mademoiselle Bonacieux," he added.

Constance watched with bated breath as they all stood in a standoff. Finally the Duke slowly bent down to retrieve his sword and sheathed it. Constance felt her knees go weak from exhaustion as he turned to walk away.

"Are you all right?" d'Artagnan spoke close to her ear.

She turned and his expression pinched, his hand reaching up to gingerly touch her chin. "I am now," she said. "I honestly didn't think anyone would find me so quickly."

"You have Rhaego to thank for that," d'Artagnan said with a relieved smile.

"Where is he?" she asked, looking around and not seeing any of the dragons.

"With Porthos keeping some frightened Flemings in check," Aramis replied. "We should go."

Constance followed them out of the woods, casting nervous glances back in case Vaugrenard decided to double back and attack again. Aramis put a comforting hand on her shoulder and she tried to breathe, knowing she was safe now.

"Where did you learn to use a sword?" he asked curiously.

Constance flicked a grateful look at d'Artagnan.

Aramis grinned. "Ah."

When they emerged from the tree line, Aramis put two fingers to his lips and let out a high-pitched whistle. They continued walking toward the road and a few minutes later, the dark shapes of three dragons came swooping down in the deepening gloaming.

Rhaego landed first and scampered over to her, snuffling her hair. She laughed and hugged his muzzle.

Porthos hopped off of Vrita. "You all right?"

Constance smiled, warmed by the care of these brothers of hers. "I'm fine."

"Didn't need us to rescue her at all," Aramis put in jovially.

"But I still appreciate the help," she said quickly. "And the ride home." She paused. "Do you think the Duke will really leave?"

"If he wants to avoid an international incident, he will," Athos replied.

"You jus' let him go?" Porthos asked incredulously.

"If _we_ want to avoid an international incident."

"I just want to go home," Constance admitted.

Rhaego nudged her shoulder, and she took that as an invitation to ride with him.

"Constance," d'Artagnan called before she could climb into the saddle.

She turned as he strode forward and was somewhat stunned when he took her earnestly by the arms. A myriad of emotions was swimming in his eyes as he looked into hers.

"I love you," he said.

Constance's breath hitched, and her cheek ached with the smile pulling at her face. "I love you too," she breathed.

D'Artagnan ducked his head and pressed his mouth to hers. She threw her arms up around his neck and kissed back, ecstatic elation banishing all the aches and fears of the past few days under a heady rush of sizzling sparks. She completely forgot about their audience until Rhaego let out a sneeze in disgust, then she pulled back with an embarrassed giggle. Aramis and Porthos were grinning widely, and even Athos had a hint of mirth in his eyes.

The two of them separated and they all mounted up on their dragons to head home. Night swallowed them by the time they reached the city and flew down toward the dragon compound. The door of the house flung open and Jean rushed out.

"Constance!"

She slipped off of Rhaego and ran to meet him. Too many times this past week she had been faced with the prospect of never seeing him again.

Her father embraced her tightly. "Thank goodness. What happened?"

"The Duke did not appreciate being told no."

He pulled back with a horrified look, gaze taking in the bruise on her face, then turned to the musketeers.

"The Duke is on his way home and will not cause further trouble," Athos assured him. "In fact, if you'll excuse me, Savron and I intend to ensure he doesn't encounter any detours along the way."

"Yeah, we'll help wit' that," Porthos added.

Constance smiled gratefully as the three musketeers remounted their dragons and departed.

Her father embraced her again but was interrupted by d'Artagnan clearing his throat.

"Monsieur Bonacieux, if you have a moment, I'd like to discuss my own intentions toward your daughter."

Constance arched a brow at him. _Now_ he wanted to speak his mind on everything?

Jean glanced between them for a few moments before shrugging in capitulation. "Very well. Let's go inside."

D'Artagnan nodded sagely but cast a small smile Constance's way that made her heart flutter giddily. She didn't know what would come next, but at least this time she was excited to find out.

* * *

**NEXT TIME**

**The musketeers are sent to arrest a suspected witch for poisoning crops, but is she guilty or only trying to help?**


End file.
